The Night's Agents: Book 2: Lovers in the Night
by Brambleshadow of WindClan
Summary: Working title. AU; Established Tiva. Summary: Now mates, Tony and Ziva have to deal with the humans intent on capturing them for study and . . . therapy? Let's see how long THAT is going to last.
1. Chapter One

**Well, so much for prewriting five chapters for uploading. So far I only have the first one done, with Chapter Two a work in progress. I just had a major plot bunny for a Def Leppard story, so that has kinda taken hold of my muse for the past three months (Wow, has it really been that long?). Hopefully Chapter Two will be up soon.**

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Chapter One

"I can't believe we have to do this," Tony DiNozzo muttered, glaring at the door marked COUNSELING.

"Left back at you," Ziva David, his partner on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs's NCIS team, agreed.

"Right back at you," Tony corrected.

"Whatever. Besides, the Director will find out if he have or haven't been going. I mean, I can see why she didn't believe us when we told her we were Shifters, but . . ." Ziva shrugged.

Tony, her mate, stared at her with something close to horror flashing in his green-gray eyes. "You're not seriously considering going through with this, are you?"

"How bad can it be?" Ziva countered, reaching out with her hand for the doorknob. It twisted, and she pushed the door open, revealing a small, wooden desk in the main room; beyond that, she could see several plump cushions and sofas. Then, as she moved further into the room, she caught sight of the presumed counselor: a beautiful woman with dark hair, startling gray eyes, and a figure that curved enough to show she was female. Those gray eyes locked on Tony with interest. Instantly Ziva's wolf snarled and leapt, loathing any other woman near _her _mate. She fished around for Tony's hand and laced her fingers though his, allowing her dark brown eyes to meet that of the possible threat. The counselor had eyes only for DiNozzo, so that told both Ziva and Tony she wasn't a Shifter or even part Shifter. No one crossed another's mate in their world, and if one male challenged another for a female, it was a fight to the death—in wolf form. That was during the female's first transformation at age seventeen (or even before); Ziva had gone through it with a friend of hers, but both had agreed they were not meant to be mates. It wasn't until during a case they'd just closed only two days before that she'd found her mate—and she never would have guessed that it would be Tony DiNozzo, a Shifter, her partner, practical joker, and, yes, movie-loving playboy.

"Glad you could make it." The breathy voice pulled Ziva back into the present, and she swore silently in Hebrew for letting her mind wander. "I'm Dr. Harris, but you can call me Sam." Dr. Harris flashed a smile at Tony, and her teeth were so bright they should have come with a label: WARNING: DO NOT STARE DIRECTLY AT TEETH. DOING SO MAY CAUSE PERNAMENT BLINDNESS. "Director Shepard told me you were coming. It's Special Agent DiNozzo, right?"

"Yeah," Tony said shortly. "This is my partner, Officer David." He flexed the fingers that were laced with Ziva's, and Dr. Harris caught the movement. Her gray eyes saw that their hands—his right, her left—were intertwined, and a warm flush crept into her cheeks. Ziva's wolf curled her upper lip and huffed with satisfaction. _Good. Maybe she'll back off now. I still want to shoot her, of course._

_Take it easy, Zi, _Tony said silently, communicating telepathically with her in the way of bonded mates. _I don't think the Director would be too happy with us if we kill the agency's counselor. _

_I hate it when you're right._

His mental reply was smug. _That's because you love me._

She gritted her teeth and squeezed his hand harder. Tony's muffled whine filled her with satisfaction. _Shut up if you know what's good for you, DiNozzo._

_Mmm-hmmm. _Tony's thought-speak voice was tinged with pain. Ziva released his hand and shot the shrink—sorry, counselor—a tight smile. "Did the Director say why we were here?"

"Uh, something about your latest case? Let's got in back and sit down." Dr. Sam Harris led the two Shifters back to the smaller room Ziva had seen earlier. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Soda? Water?"

Ziva had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The she-wolf answered, "I'm fine," just as Tony replied, "No thanks."

There were a few silent moments while they sat down and Dr. Harris reached for a notepad and pencil. Both Shifters eyed it suspiciously. Tony said, "You're not taking notes, are you?" Ziva didn't say anything, but she curled her upper lip in a snarl of contempt.

Sam blinked. "Of course. I have to, you know."

Ziva felt Tony tense up beside her, as close as he was to her. She hissed softly, "Chill it!"

"Cool it," he corrected.

"Whatever!"

The shrink had been watching them with undisguised curiosity. She asked, "Do you guys do this all the time?"

"Yes," Tony replied just as Ziva answered, "No."

"Seriously?"

Again, they spoke at the same time, DiNozzo saying no and David going with yes.

Sam sighed. "Don't you agree on _anything_?"

"No," they said in unison.

One of Sam's eyebrows lifted. "So you finally have your stories straight."

Tony opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Ziva beat him to it: "Do you want to interrogate us or not?"

Sam bristled. "I don't _interrogate_ people. That's your job."

An irritated snarl rose in Ziva's throat, but she managed to stay silent. Murder flashed in her eyes, though, something she was sure both Tony and Dr. Harris saw clearly. She didn't care.

Dr. Sam Harris cleared her throat loudly. "So, uh, why don't you tell me about your last case?"

Both Shifters looked at each other, like, _You first._ After a brief mental battle, Tony sighed and said, "Well, you're _sure _Director Shepard didn't say _why _we're here?"

"All I know is that it has to do with your case, and that you were claiming to be . . . uh . . . _werewolves._"

"I take offense to that," said Tony, looking offended. "We're not Hollywood lycanthropes. You _do _know we can't talk about an ongoing investigation, right?"

Sam's shoulders slumped in relief. Then she tensed. "Hang on. _Hollywood_? So you _are _lycanthropes?"

"We'd tell you, but then we'd have to kill you," Ziva deadpanned, only half joking. She leaned back in her chair and undid her ponytail, shaking her head so her dark brown curls tumbled free and cascaded over her shoulders. Today she was wearing an olive-green long-sleeved shirt and khaki cargo pants, very much the same outfit she'd worn the first time she met Tony, after the death of Special Agent Caitlin Todd at the hands of Ziva's half-brother, Ari Haswari. Then Ziva had had to kill Ari to save Gibbs . . . So, yeah, there was definitely some awkwardness when she initially joined Team Gibbs—Abby had hated Ziva at first, but now they were really good friends.

In any case, the case they were referring to involved a dead drug-dealing petty officer; her civilian friend; a rogue ATF Shifter; and Jeanne Bentoit, Tony's ex-girlfriend that he was romancing as part of a top-secret undercover op run by Director Jenny Shepard. Petty Officer Phoebe Madison had killed a rival officer encroaching on her turf, and she in turn had been killed by Chris Nixon and Ethan Keane, the civilian friend and the ATF Shifter who didn't belong to any pack. (Neither did Tony and Ziva, but the NCIS team basically _was _their pack and family. If it weren't for the team, Ziva and Tony would never have known what love and affection were.) When the team had brought Keane in for interrogation, he'd escaped. The NCIS Shifters had found him in the evidence garage, during which Keane attacked Tony—both in wolf form—and Ziva had been forced to ill the black wolf in order to save her partner by shifting and sinking her fangs into his throat. They'd also had help from CIA agents Trent Kort and his mate, a Russian named Meghan Volkov, who also happened to be Shifters. Of course, there was no way they could include all the Shifter stuff in the case reports, since the entire agency save for Gibbs and Director Shepard had no idea what they were.

But Jenny had had a hard time believing them, which was why they were now here. . . .

"Yes, well." Dr. Harris sounded uncomfortable, but her voice snapped the Mossad liaison officer out of her thoughts. "You two seem okay to me. You're not . . . seeing each other, are you?"

"Why do people always ask us that?" Tony complained under his breath. Ziva had to fight back an amused smile. She said, "Uh, what gave you that idea?"

Sam shrugged a little. "Just the way you two interact with each other."

"Why don't you bring out the brown leather couch already, Doc?" Tony asked, his green-gray eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The shrink bristled, but before she could reply, Tony's cell rang. He fished it out of his pocket, flipped it open, and answered, "Yes, Boss?" There was a pause, then he said, "Got it. I'll tell Ziva." DiNozzo hung up and turned to his partner. "We caught a case. Let's go. Nice to meet ya, Doc." _Not_. (Ziva smirked as she caught his thought.) Tony bolted from his seat; Ziva did the same. It wasn't long before they were free from that already-hated office and on their way to the crime scene.

…

"Hi, I'm looking for a Dr. Jeanne Bentoit."

Said doctor's head popped up at the now-familiar voice and saw Chris Nixon standing there. It suddenly occurred to her that he was very good-looking when dressed all in black: it brought out the natural highlights in his shaggy blond hair and the contrasting blues, greens, and browns in his hazel eyes.

Chris had first approached her the day before in a café she frequented. Well, that wasn't quite true: he'd sent her a text an hour before arranging the meet, saying that he wanted her help on a secret project. When she'd first met him, he told her that he knew about Tony being a lycanthrope and that he wanted to capture a werewolf to study it. His eyes had lit up as he described the medical ramifications—and of course, the recreational uses. Then he'd asked her if she would help him . . . and she'd said yes.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes," Jeanne told Chris presently. "Can you wait here until my shift ends?"

"Yeah, sure." Chris sat down in one of the lobby's chairs and, crossing one leg over the other, reached for one of the magazines they always kept out, even if they were a few months—or years—out of date.

Ten minutes later, they were at a table in the hospital cafeteria, conversing about their plan in greater detail.

Tony and Ziva would have no idea what was happening until it was too late.


	2. Chapter Two

**Here's an early Christmas present for you wonderful reviewers, since I'm probably not going to have Internet access later this week. Unfortunately, it's a short chapter, but since I had such short notice . . . **

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Chapter Two

"What was the TOD, Duck?" Gibbs asked the Scottish medical examiner.

Ducky twisted his upper body around to give the team leader a scathing look. "I've only just started my preliminary examination, Jethro. Have some patience." He turned back to the body—that of a seaman home from touring—ripped open from chest to navel. From the looks of it, a bear had started eating him—something not uncommon in Rock Creek Park. The team, in fact, had had a similar case before.

"Do you think he was here with anyone?" Tony asked, snapping yet another photo of the deceased.

Timothy McGee glanced up from where he was searching the body for ID. "Maybe, considering it looks like he was here camping and Ziva found some women's underwear in the packs inside his tent."

"Or he had a cross-dressing fetish," Jimmy Palmer, Dr. Mallard's assistant, piped up.

Everyone else stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

"What?"

The rest of the team chose wisely not to respond and continued their various tasks. Ziva was busy taking witness statements from the group that had found the body. When she finished, she joined her teammates. The Israeli Shifter reported, "None of them recalled seeing Seaman—"

"Josh Walker," McGee supplied, having found the deceased's driver's license.

"—Josh Walker," Ziva continued, "but since they're an educational group led by a park ranger . . ." She shrugged. "It doesn't mean much."

"How about the ranger leading the group?" Gibbs asked.

"She didn't remember seeing him, but then, this _is _a large park, Gibbs. It's impossible to patrol daily." What Ziva neglected to add was that the ranger leading the group was her and Tony's kind—a Shifter. It didn't surprise her: a lot of Shifters worked as park rangers or forest guides, known as sherpas, to keep Statics out of the areas of the park Shifters viewed as theirs.

Gibbs' blue eyes narrowed, clearly guessing there was something she was holding back. The team leader knew about her and Tony being Shifters—and Keane, the dead ATF agent, and he suspected Trent Kort and Meghan Volkov of the CIA were Shifters as well. Ziva didn't want to tell him just how many Shifters existed. She knew there were packs across the country and scattered throughout the world. (Not all Shifters transformed into wolves, but Ziva had never met a non-wolf Shifter. Well, maybe once.)

Thankfully, Gibbs appeared to let the unasked question drop. He turned back to Ducky. "You have a TOD yet?"

Dr. Mallard pulled the liver probe out of said organ, studied it, and said, "He's been here for at least a few days, Jethro."

"Cause of death?"

"Hard to say. We'll know more when the poor fellow is back at Autopsy, won't we, Mr. Palmer?"

"Of course, Doctor," Jimmy agreed, fiddling with the black body bag. He managed to unzip it, and the two medical examiners carefully set what was left of Seaman Josh Walker inside. They zipped up the body bag, then proceeded to store it in the truck for the trip home.

A thought suddenly struck McGee. "Hang on. If Ziva found women's clothing at his camp—"

"What do you mean 'if'?" Ziva scoffed.

"—then where's the woman?"

There was a moment of silence. Tony broke it by saying, "Oh." Then he winced when Gibbs head-slapped him.

"Good thinking, McGee," Gibbs told the probie. "Tony, why didn't you double-check with Ziva?"

"Well, I—"

"I don't want to hear it."

"Yes, Boss. We can go now if you like."

"Good. Do I have to tell you to take Ziva?"

"No."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, and went over to Ziva. She said, "Follow me," and led him through the woods. They emerged into a small clearing a half-mile away furnished with a tent, a black Ford pickup, and a campfire reduced to ashes and charred wood.

"I already bagged and tagged what clothing I could," Ziva informed her partner.

"We should still be able to pick up her scent."

"Do you want to do the honors?"

DiNozzo looked swiftly at his mate, only to find she was giving him a teasing smile. He tugged playfully at her ponytail. Her dark brown eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth. She ordered, "Stop playing around, DiNozzo. We have work to do."

"You started it, Officer David."

"Chomp me," she muttered.

"Bite me," he corrected.

How could she resist such an invitation? The she-wolf stretched up on her toes, nuzzled his neck, and nipped lightly where neck met shoulder. Then she relaxed her position and stepped back.

Tony's green-gray eyes had shut when she leaned in close, but they flew open when she nipped him. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. And relax, would you? I didn't even bite you that hard."

"I didn't mean it literally!"

"You didn't?" Ziva frowned, but her eyes were laughing.

"NO!"

"There's no need to yell," she chided.

Tony huffed and turned back to the tent. "Let's just start working. Gibbs will probably come looking for us soon."

"Okay." Ziva walked over to the tent, unzipped it, and ducked inside. Tony followed her. He said, "Since it's November, isn't it a little cold to be out camping?"

"Maybe he was out hunting."

"Hunting what?"

"Pheasant. Elk, deer—or is that in the summer?"

"Beats me. I don't hunt."

"What about when you're in wolf form?"

"That's different and you know it. It's for food, to survive."

"And it tastes delicious. I hate hunting birds, though. The feathers get stuck in my teeth."

"Have you ever seen _Open Season_?"

"No. Do I want to? No. Besides, how is a kid's movie relevant to this case?"

"It's not. I just wanted to see your reaction."

Ziva stuck her tongue out, and Tony had to fight back a laugh. If you want to see something funny, it's a tough, ninja Mossad Shifter assassin sticking her tongue out at her partner.

Then the Israeli was serious. "What can you smell?"

DiNozzo inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. "Our dead seaman, but under that . . ." He sniffed again. "Yeah, there was definitely a woman here, but the scent's stale—maybe a couple days old."

"That's what I thought," Ziva said.

"At least now we're sure that he doesn't have a cross-dressing fetish."

Ziva cracked a small smile, remembering Palmer's comment. "For all we know, he still might." She Gibbs-slapped him at his incredulous look. "I was joking!"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled before asking, "Do you think we should follow the scent?"

"Let's tell Gibbs we found a female scent first. Then he can decide."

"Okay. Speaking of Gibbs, we should start heading back. The others will be wondering where we are."

"Got it." Ziva stepped out of the tent, carrying the evidence bags full of clothes. Tony followed. The tents and pickup truck would be picked up taken to the evidence garage later.

The Israeli suddenly froze when the reached the edge of the clearing. "Do you sense that?"

"Sense what?"

"We're being watched."

Both of them whirled around to check—but there was nothing there.


	3. Chapter Three

**Gah! I am so sorry for not updating sooner, but what with school, track, and my very fickle muse, I've had a case of, er, "creative stifling" as McGee says. And my muse has been captured by a Def Leppard fic, my original story, and my NCIS/21 Jump Street crossover. *sigh***

**Ah, well. On with the chapter.**

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Chapter Three

"Well, that's pretty freaky," Tony commented. He then let out a hiss as Ziva elbowed him in the gut. "Ow! Geez, do you love inflicting pain on me or something? I thought the females of our species had—"

"If you say 'finesse,' I will rip your throat out with my teeth. Besides, I'm a warrior, not an airhead model."

"Of course," Tony said quickly. "I've never thought of you as anything less."

Ziva's eyes narrowed. She looked like she was going to say something about that, but what left her mouth instead was, "Let's go already." The Israeli Shifter turned back and began marching through the woods. Tony, after scanning the trees beyond the clearing one more time, followed her.

A lone figure hidden in the trees aimed his index and middle finger like a gun at the two Shifters and pretended to fire. A cruel smile danced across his lips before he melted into the forest.

…

The rest of the team was still by the crime scene. Gibbs looked up from where he was examining the ground, saw it was his wolves, and stood up. He asked, "What d'ya got?"

"There was definitely a woman with our dead seaman, Gibbs," Ziva said. "Tony and I wanted to see if we could stay here and help search for her."

The former Marine considered it. They could take care of themselves, he knew, and with their abilities they would probably find the woman quicker than any search party. Wolves with human minds were a dangerous enemy—or valuable ally, depending on how you looked at it. "Okay," he said finally.

McGee's head swiveled toward the team leader, confusion etched in every line on his face. "Boss?"

"Did you say something, McGee?"

"It's just . . . You're seriously letting them stay out here . . . in the woods . . . alone?"

"They can take care of themselves, McGee."

"We all know Ziva can, but what about Tony? He's not exactly a Boy Scout."

"Neither are you, McPoison Ivy." That was DiNozzo, of course. And he was referring to the fact that almost every time they had a case in the woods, McGee would end up in a patch of poison ivy. Not fun for the probie, but the senior field agent thought it was hilarious. Everyone else just avoided Tim like the plague.

_Thwack! _"Shut up, you two."

Both probie and Shifter cringed, rubbing the spot on their heads where they'd been Gibbs-slapped. The phrase "shutting up, Boss" was on the tip of Tony's tongue, but he wisely held it back. It would not do to raise Gibbs's ire this early in the case. And besides, this way they wouldn't have to report to the shrink.

He must have been smiling or something, because Gibbs was eyeing him oddly. "You okay, DiNozzo?"

"I'm great. I just realized this means Ziva and I won't have to see the shrink."

Abby's silver-haired fox cracked one of his rare half-smiles. "I'll talk to Jenny, tell you you're working a case."

"Jenny, huh? Just how well do you know our Madame Director?"

_Thwack_! "Do you want me to hit you again, DiNozzo?"

"No."

"Smart answer. Now go with Ziva."

"Uh, Boss?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You two _are _going to be searching for the woman, so you'll need changes of clothes, right?"

"Oh."

"Then take her, go home, and pack. McGee and I will be working the victim's end from the Navy Yard." Gibbs paused, saw Tony and Ziva were still with him. "Well, what are you still doing here? Get moving!"

"Yes, Boss." Before the Marine could snap at him again, Tony had taken Ziva by the arm and begun the trek back to the car.

…

Hours later, the two Shifters were back in the clearing where they'd picked up traces of the woman's scent. It was early afternoon by now, and Tony was still hungry—Ziva knew this because he'd been complaining every ten minutes. She slid him a reproachful look. "Seriously? We ate half an hour ago!"

"Yeah, but that's like a day in dog time."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "We're wolves, not dogs; however, in your case I beg to differ. You can catch something once we shift."

"Great." Tony was already stripping, stuffing his clothes into the backpack they'd brought. Ziva caught sight of the ink on his right scapula—her name in the ancient letters of his former pack. Then there was a smooth ripple, a shimmering blink, and she was looking at a male wolf with thick fur the color of milk chocolate and green-gray eyes the shade of moss—human eyes, _Tony's _eyes.

_C'mon, Zi, _Tony said in thought-speak. _Let's go!_

The Israeli glanced around once more before removing her clothing. She, too, stuffed her clothes in the backpack and shifted forms. Somehow (she wasn't sure how), she managed to adjust and manipulate the backpack, one made for large dogs, so it was on her back.

_Can I tell you how weird it is seeing a doggy backpack on a wolf? _Tony commented.

Ziva bared her teeth and cuffed him over the ears with a paw. _No, you cannot. If anyone sees us, they'll just think we're big dogs or something—Siberian Huskies or Alaskan Malamutes, maybe. Didn't you say something about being hungry?_

Any mention of food, and Tony was alert at once. This situation was no exception. The male wolf lifted his nose and sniffed at the air. He must have caught a scent, because he took off at a lope. Ziva followed him when the surprise wore off, but the backpack slowed her down. She growled quietly under her breath and forced her leg muscles to pump faster. The she-wolf gradually picked up the same scent Tony had: a couple of rabbits.

It wasn't long at all before both wolves were tearing into the warm meat.

When they were finished disposing of the remains, Ziva said, _We better get back to tracking her._

_She can't have gotten far, _Tony replied, scratching at an itch behind his ear. Then he twisted around to attack an itch on his left flank.

Ziva, watching the so-called very special agent, sighed and walked past, whacking his snout with her tail.

She was gone before he could retaliate.

…

While Tony and Ziva were in Rock Creek Park searching for their Jane Doe, Gibbs and McGee were back in their bullpen at the Navy Yard. The probie had their victim's military ID up on the plasma and was busy digging up every single type of record the seaman had.

"How do you think Tony and Ziva are doing?" McGee asked at length.

The mention of his team's two Shifters reminded Gibbs that he still had to talk to the Director. He told McGee that Tony and Ziva were probably doing just fine, then rose and made for the stairwell. Tim watched him go with a puzzled air. He then shrugged and returned to clacking away at the keyboard.

The Bossman, meanwhile, had reached Jenny's door in less than a minute. He ignored Cynthia's protests and barged inside Director Shepard's office.

When he entered, Jenny was on the phone. "I'll call you back," she said to the person on the other end, then hung up. The redheaded director leaned back in her chair, studying the field agent with interest. "Yes, Jethro?"

"I've caught a case," he said. "A dead seaman in Rock Creek Park. Evidence found suggests he was there with a female companion, who is now missing. I have Tony and Ziva out searching for her. It could take days, Jen."

Her eyes narrowed. "What you're trying to say is that Tony and Ziva won't make it to their meetings with Dr. Harris."

"Yeah. Probably not."

Jen smiled a little. "I could always read you, you know."

"You still don't know everything," Gibbs reminded her. "And you should know that Tony and Ziva don't need to see a shrink. They never did."

The ex-Marine turned to leave. His hand was just resting on the doorknob when Jen said, "You don't really believe them, do you? That they're werewolves?"

"Shifters," Gibbs corrected. "And yes, I do. It explains a lot about their behavior. Think about it." Then he was gone, leaving the female director to ponder over what he'd told her.


	4. Chapter Four

**Gah! So sorry for the long wait, guys, but I was having a case of creative stifling. I think this is also somewhat of a filler chapter; nothing really happens until you reach the end. (Sorry, but my brain wanted to end this chapter. I know where I'm going with it; the only problem is forcing myself to write the stages I need to write to get there. Does that make any sense?) That being said, this is somewhat short. Anyway, enough rambling.**

* * *

Chapter Four

Tony and Ziva had been tracking the Jane Doe's scent for hours and had yet to find her. It was growing dark, and although the trail had gotten a bit stronger, both Shifters knew they still had a long way to go.

Ziva slowed from a steady trot into a walk and studied her surroundings. _I think we're near one of our lairs._ In addition to having secret lairs all over Washington, D.C. in case of emergency, there were also several natural-made ones throughout Rock Creek Park and Shenandoah National Park.

_And it's almost dark, _Tony noted. _Should we keep searching or tuck in for the night?"_

_ "Tuck in"?_ Ziva said, puzzled. _I've never heard you use that expression before._

_ Guess I've been watching too many _Harry Potter _movies. I think it means go to bed._

Even in wolf form Ziva managed to look incredulous. _You actually know British slang?_

_ Hey, you're still struggling with American idioms, so you shouldn't be talking. Besides, I don't want to confuse you._

_ It's too late for that, Tony._

He shrugged and padded past her, whacking her on the snout with his tail and kicking up pawfuls of fallen leaves for good measure. Ziva sneezed violently, ducking her head and pawing at her muzzle. _Tony, you're going to pay for that!_

_ I'm terrified, _he deadpanned. _And how, may I ask, are you going to repay me?_

_ Use your imagination, _Ziva retorted, approaching the entrance to the lair—a tunnel leading into the side of a hill. The two wolves padded down the dark corridor, fur prickling with claustrophobia. Their hackles lay flat when it opened up into a large underground cavern lit by a natural skylight a foot in diameter. The setting sun turned the warm rich browns of the earth to the red and orange of flame. Another tunnel led off to a tiny underground pool. Crates full of clothes, blankets, canned food, and bottled water were stacked along the walls, with expiration dates in the far=off future. After all, it wouldn't do to have spoiled food in a place set up for emergencies. Tony supposed it could be thought of as a Shifter safe house—except for the fact none of their lairs were actually houses.

He shook his head to clear it, padded over to one of the clothing crates, shifted forms, dressed in gray cotton sweats, and turned back to Ziva. Once the backpack was off her, she shifted as well and also pulled on the loose cotton clothing. Then she began rummaging through a few crates. "You want anything?"

"What have you found?" Tony countered, looking over her shoulder at the contents of the nearest crate. This one looked like it contained bottled water and a few boxes of granola bars. Ziva grabbed two of each and tossed him a water and granola bar. "There you go."

"Thanks," Tony said, already tearing into the wrapping surrounding the bar. They'd eaten a few hours ago, but he suddenly realized he was still hungry. Their bodies had a constant workout, what with all the shifting, and the countless number of times they'd have to chase after suspects on a case—in human form, of course.

Beside him, Ziva was busy taking large bites out of her own granola bar. She washed it down with a swig of bottled water, then made a face at the plastic bottle. "I've never liked the way this tastes," she commented.

Tony took his own swallow of water, sat down on the surprisingly warm earthen floor, and set the bottle on the floor beside him. "Yeah, me neither. It's one of the biggest scams in American business—and I'm not saying anything more than that. Otherwise I'll start sounding like Ducky."

He felt rather than saw her smile. The next thing he knew, a rolled-up sleeping bag had hit him in the back of the head.

"Oi!" he yelped, turning around to face the culprit. Ziva looked back at him with an innocent expression for about two seconds; then she grinned and chuckled warmly. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he looked at her.

_She needs to do that more often, _he thought while his fingers busied themselves with unrolling the sleeping bag. He unzipped it so that it lay flat and glanced up at Ziva. "Toss me two more, will you?"

"Sure." Ziva did as he requested, then went poking around in more crates. A minute later there was a triumphant cry of "A-ha!" and she turned back to Tony with a pillow in each hand. She tossed him one, which he caught easily, then set the other on the makeshift bed. The third sleeping bag would serve as a duvet.

Ziva crawled into the sleeping bags first; Tony wasn't far behind. He had to force himself to stay on his side of the sleeping bag mattress, because his body didn't want to. It wanted to curled around his mate—and okay, yeah, a large part of his brain wanted that too. His wolf, of course, was all for it. Snatches of lyrics to Duran Duran song played in his mind: _In touch with the ground, I'm on the hunt, I'm after you. Smell like the sound, I'm lost in a crowd, and I'm hungry like the wolf. Strut on a line, discord and rhyme, I'm on the hunt I'm after you. Mouth is alive with juices like wine, and I'm hungry like the wolf. Stalked in the forest, too close to hide. I'll be upon you by the moonlight side. . . ._

"Do you think we'll find her, Tony?" Ziva asked quietly, snapping him out of his fevered thoughts.

"Yeah. We'll find her," he assured her, thankful to have a conversation that would distract him. Given that they were on a case, what he'd been thinking was _completely _inappropriate. But then . ._ . "I see your eyes, that animal emotion. You don't have to set your tender trap. It's in those eyes, it's gonna happen anyway."_ He frowned mentally. _Where have I heard that before? Oh, yeah, Def Leppard, _Adrenalize, _released in '92. I don't even know if I still have that record. What's the name of the song—"Tonight"? Yes, that's it. "Tonight—give me love with no disguise. Tonight—I see the fire in your eyes. Tonight—I wanna win the greatest prize. Tonight—so right, this night could it be dynamite? Wait and see. If it pleases you it pleases me."_

Tony suddenly realized that he had rolled onto this side and was running one hand over the bare flesh of Ziva's hip. Rather than tense and fight, she was relaxing under his touch, even moving closer as if she needed the contact as much as he did.

Ziva turned so she was facing him and nestled into the crook of Tony's neck, one arm draped over his body. He heard her inhale, felt her warm breath ghost over his skin as she exhaled. His wolf pounced and raged inside his mind, howling in frustration. She was his _mate_, and right now, all his wolf wanted was Ziva. Truth be told, his human side had noticed her from the moment she'd walked into the bullpen and introduced herself as Ari's control officer. He hadn't acted on it, of course—she would have had him on the floor with one knee at his throat before he could blink. Or maybe not, considering she'd been flirting with him and they'd both been playing a game of cat-and-mouse ever since they'd met. Now that he thought about it, maybe that instant connection was when he'd figured her for a Shifter. She hadn't found out about him until weeks after she'd started at NCIS as the Mossad liaison officer.

Tony lost all thought-processing ability as Ziva licked the hollow of his throat. So his wolf wasn't the only one; she felt it, too.

_Hold me, _she said in his mind, pressing her curves to his angular lines. Desire ran burning hot through his veins, and Tony struggled to hold it back until he was sure of what she wanted.

In the end, though, it didn't matter. Nothing did in the heat of the night.

-oOo-

Miles away, their Jane Doe, torn and bloody, collapsed near a fairly-new building. She wasn't sure how long she'd been running—hours for certain, possibly a few days—but she knew she had to keep going. Otherwise she would end up like poor John Walker. Trouble was, her body just _did not _want to go any further.

Voices sounded from ahead. Blurry shapes melted out of the building and came toward her. The only thing she could make out was that one was a blonde male, the other a brunette female.

Then her blurred vision dimmed and everything went black.


End file.
